


A Touch in the Rain

by JayTheAngstKing



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batjokes, Caught in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Touchy-Feely, it was a challenge, its not even that angsty, pre-existing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 03:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13022382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTheAngstKing/pseuds/JayTheAngstKing
Summary: "He was the type of person who preferred watching the rain. It was cold for him, a little too dangerous as well, if he pressed so far. He didn't mind feeling the rain, if he had safety guaranteeing he’d be okay afterward. He didn't mind the touch of its cold drops, so long as he wasn't going to have any negative effects because he didn't have time for such effects.But Joker was the type of person to throw caution to the wind. Joker didn't care if he shivered and suffered, only cared that it was fun and good. That's what made him do it over and over again, even if he got sick, or his body started to react. That didn't matter. Joker would run headlong into hypothermia, and care very little if it killed him."





	A Touch in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> There was a challenge in a Batjokes server, and I ended up really liking the result. 
> 
> Also, I recognize there may be some errors, but I picked through as best I could to fix all of the ones I saw.

The climate of Gotham could easily be described as cold and wet, with occasional mugginess in summer, and snow in winter. Perhaps that’s why the residents used to carry umbrellas everywhere, until the Penguin exploited that very tool, and Gothamites decided to just settle with windbreakers and hoods. The gutters were overused, and the dirt was clingy. It was Gotham’s default state, since it was surrounded by the ocean, surrounded by endless water.

Needless to say, there was a reason Bruce’s suit was waterproof.

His cape kept the wind off him, and it was one of the nicer things about it, other than allowing him to glide. On patrols, the cape was the very warmth that kept him from suffering hypothermia. It, like the suit, was also waterproof. There were nights during patrols, where he would have a moment to himself in the rain, and he would stare, watching the water bead up and slide away.

He couldn't particularly feel the rain’s rhythm through the suit, but he could feel the pitter patter, the almost inconsistent drops, on his exposed jaw and on his cowl. He had been accustomed to the feeling of rain dripping off his chin, his lips, his cheeks. It was almost comforting.

He liked the rain.

But so did the Joker, though the Joker was far different. His clothes were suits and ties, dress pants and dress shoes, that had no repellent at all. It was cloth, and it would get soaked in the downpour of rain that hit Gotham. He didn't wear wind breakers, nor did he wear hoods. If Bruce was lucky, he might have seen him wear a trench coat and a hat once, perhaps twice, but beyond that, he never saw anything remotely waterproof.

It wasn’t as though the other “villains” in Gotham didn't also wear suits. It was just that, unlike the clown, they stayed inside, away from the rain. The clown, however, he ran _through_ the rain, not just because he was chased, he just liked running through it. He enjoyed getting wet and soaked, enjoyed the cold, the chaotic rhythm of the rain.

Bruce didn't understand that.

Even then, after a dance that was considerably gentle compared to their track record, even then, with the autumn rain falling heavier than it had moments before. He watched Joker smile and close his eyes, as if the freezing drizzle was bliss on earth.

Even though Bruce could see him shiver. Even though his teeth chattered gently. Even though he couldn't have been more wet if Bruce had thrown him in the bay, Joker seemed to be content, and even genuinely happy to be on the edge of hypothermia.

Bruce didn't understand that. People prefer being warm. He always knew people to hate the cold, and never knew a person to really enjoy it. He studied Joker.

“Why do you like the rain?” Bruce asked then. “Why do you run through it?”

Joker didn't reply right away. He opened his eyes, and they pierced through him, not in a harmful way, but more like he could see through him and find the lie, the truth, the desire. His eyes have a way of doing that, reading under what he says, to get to what he meant.

Finally he said, “It feels nice. Don't you like it too?”

And Bruce thought on that.

He realized after a moment, that he was the type of person who preferred watching the rain. It was cold for him, a little too dangerous as well, if he pressed so far. He didn't mind feeling the rain, if he had safety guaranteeing he’d be okay afterward. He didn't mind the touch of its cold drops, so long as he wasn't going to have any negative effects because he didn't have time for such effects.

But Joker was the type of person to throw caution to the wind. Joker didn't care if he shivered and suffered, only cared that it was fun and good. That's what made him do it over and over again, even if he got sick, or his body started to react. That didn't matter. Joker would run headlong into hypothermia, and care very little if it killed him.

Joker was like that. Constantly doing things that hurt him despite knowing full well that it would, and Bruce was left to make sure he was okay.

Bruce took steps closer to Joker, slow but precise. He took a hold of his cape and wrapped it around the clown, knowing that just because he wanted to stay out in the rain, that didn't mean it was a good idea, knowing full well that under his smudged and running colored lips, they were turning bluer, and knowing that the clowns clothes couldn't prevent hypothermia.

Joker smiled in his mischievous way, letting out an equally devilish chuckle. “Well, well, look at me! I'm getting bat cuddles!”

“You’re freezing,” Bruce stated, less an excuse and more a fact. That was the good thing about talking with Joker. He didn't have to mask everything.

Or rather, he couldn't. Those eyes, it was always those eyes that stripped him apart and got to the things no one else could. Thoughts and emotions no one else should know. Joker had a way of finding the pieces of denial, white lies, and sometimes, even going so far as to read the desire and affection hidden underneath it.

Even in that moment, his beautiful lips curved around seductive words, as his hands found a place on his chest. “Don't you know that warmth is a lot more accessible with skin to skin-,” Joker paused, moving closer to Bruce’s ear and breathing out, “ _-contact._ ”

And there it was. An invitation.

Bruce was the kind of person that hesitated when the option arrived. He was going to ensure that if things went south, that he could be okay afterward. He didn't mind the touch, just so long as it was a touch, because he wasn't ready to go out in the rain without knowing if it was going to be safe. He had to weigh his options, his decisions, with lists and possibilities. Just the small touches were allowed, and as long as he deemed them safe, but only such small touches. He would not abandon his suit to join the man in the unknown, not until he _knew_.

But Joker was the type to run headlong into the unknown, with no guarantees, as long as he had a good time, and as long as it made him happy. He didn't weigh the risk because he didn't need to. He thought that any chance at a good time was not something to wait around for. He didn't want to miss out, because eventually, the clouds would move on, and eventually, the moment would pass. He didn't care about the aftereffects, he didn't care about the harm it would cause him because what was the point, if during all that decision making, he had missed out on the beautiful moment he could have had.

It wasn't the first time Joker hinted at a storm.

Bruce leaned closer, acknowledging it was a touch, not a decision, not a real decision anyway. Just a touch deemed safe at that time. 

He pressed a kiss to Joker’s lips. They were cold from the rain’s touch but soft. Joker’s breath was warm and it tickled Bruce’s skin. When Bruce pulled away, only giving them a couple inches of space, he was able to taste copper on his lips, most likely Joker’s blood, and not his own.

And he noticed Joker’s trembling frame was pressing closer to him. Maybe seeking the warmth he had forsaken, maybe attempting to get Bruce’s attention. Bruce watched his lips, parted ever so slightly yet overwhelmingly inviting. Bruce watched his eyes, half closed yet intensely bright. Joker let out a breathy chuckle.

He hinted at storms, but that didn't mean he was always ready to be swept away.

Bruce leaned in again, and Joker closed the distance. He was eager, as he has been in the past, and full of energy, as he was every single moment of his waking life.

Joker’s tongue was a pleasure on its own, and it felt like every time he pressed past his lips, Bruce’s heart would react. Whether it thumped faster, or skipped a beat altogether, Bruce forgot to pay attention. Not that it would have been easy with Joker’s intoxicating touch.

Bruce let his right hand settle on Joker’s cheek, cupping his face and gently letting his thumb trace circles along his skin. His other hand settled on Joker’s rib cage, to hold him steady. He felt the rain hit his cowl, felt it drench Joker’s hair until the green curls were dripping water onto his gloves. He could smell lavender and rain. He could hear Joker breathe and moan. He could taste blood and laughter. It was a moment all on its own.

When Joker’s hand made a daring move, trailing down Bruce’s chest and too close to his belt, Bruce grabbed his wrist and prevented any further progress.

Joker pulled away slightly, his lips taking with it a piece of Bruce’s willpower. Joker whispered. “You know, you can't keep doing this. It's not nice to keep me waiting without an answer.”

Bruce was the type of person to wear armor to protect himself. Every decision was an extension to that armor. He was not willing to let people get close enough to hurt him, not if he could help it. Those that did get close were highly trusted, but in few numbers. It was just like his suit, designed to repel the rain, though his armor was designed to repel pain. It wasn't that he distrusted Joker, so much that he couldn't say with certainty that Joker wouldn't hurt him.

But Joker was the type of person who wore everything on their sleeve. He was honest in his own way. Perhaps not with facts, or even who he was, but his emotions and his thoughts, they were more often left in the open. He was loud and eccentric, and he wanted his feelings to be noticed. Maybe even reciprocated. But he wasn't waterproof, he was very much drenched in what was handed back, and when Bruce repels those very loud but sentimental words, they end up soaking him, reminding him every second that he really is in pain, though he tries to ignore it. It wasn't that Bruce meant to hurt Joker, so much that Joker kept coming around _despite knowing_ he’d get hurt.

And it wasn't the first time Bruce repelled a storm.

Joker was like the rain, in a way. Although the rain always did come back to Gotham, there were times when it was gone, and just like the rain, Joker’s moments when he was available to Bruce, _like this_ , were limited and on time constraints. They passed him by, and he watched them, instead of taking his cape off and running through, feeling every sensation and enjoying the moment. He was watching it pass, even now, as he weighed his options, made his lists, _he was missing the moment_.

“I know,” Bruce whispered back to Joker. “But not now.”

Joker hummed a response, something akin to understanding, and maybe a little disappointment, but it was enough. He pressed his forehead against Bruce’s. His hair got between them, the curly wet mess that it was. Bruce noticed he shivered less, perhaps warmer now with the cape trapping heat around him.

“Would you like something to drink?” Bruce asked.

Joker pulled away, a weak smile on his face, not particularly happy, but far from menacing. Bruce would take it.

“You’re dropping me off at Arkham again, aren’t you?”

“After,” Bruce confirmed.

He noticed Joker’s annoyance with that, but he didn't run, like he has in the past. He just walked with his Batman, away from the _ballroom_ and back to the car. “I want hot chocolate.”

Bruce smiled softly, though he fought it away, before Joker could see it. “That’s fine.”

Bruce took Joker to a small cafe, one that he could just order and leave. In the end, they got comfortable in a parking lot and drank their warm drinks in relative silence, listening to the rain pelt the Batmobile.

Perhaps the moment had been missed this time, but the rain always came back to Gotham. Even if he missed the chance this time, there would be another storm, _another moment_ , to enjoy. He could argue with himself in between, to decide if it was the right decision.

And in the meantime, they never did say that enjoying a touch wasn't just as fulfilling.


End file.
